Margalo's Return
by meerkatalex
Summary: Margalo returns after a long winter, and our favourite Little watches her from afar, having developed strong feelings for her. But will this go beyond friendship? A collection of one-shots surrounding Stuart/Margalo. Rated for the last chapter.
1. The BirdBath

Author's Note: Well, I can't find out how many hits I get because I don't know how :( But it would be amazing at this point if some of you dedicated readers reviewed. If I get a review or email about this story, I'll literally explode with excitement! So for every review, I'll try and post a new chapter. Please bear in mind I'm at college studying final exams so don't be upset if I don't post one every day. Thanks, on with the story! PS I'll alert you all on what rating each chapter is. I think this one would be K+ or a T, possibly, depending on how yopu look at it. The M rated chapter will have a very big and obvious warning at the beginning of it, but that won't be up for at least a month. So, I don't own Stuart Little, and here's my first shot at a Margalo/Stuart fic:

His ears twitched as he picked up his football; the sounds of splashing and light singing made the way through the bushes to these delicate organs, and he crept forward, pushing aside leaves and branches until he saw a beacon of light shining through. He shielded his face with one hand, lowered his football to the ground wit the other, and peered through the gap which presented the rest of the garden to him.

Stuart's eyes widened at the sight before him; Margalo, his best friend and canary, a firm favourite of the Little family, was flitting about in the bird-bath, water sprinkling over head as she washed. She turned towards him and he gasped, turning away, his face reddening under his fur. Her hat, goggles and scarf had been lain abandoned at the side of the bird-bath, and her plump breast had shone out brightly to him. He hadn't seen her in over four months, as she had been away for the winter season, and now she had returned, evidently wanting to wash herself before she said hello again.

He turned back towards the singing, which had taken on a softer tone, although he kept his eyes firmly upon the ground. Her melodic voice swam through the air towards him as he listened, and he was enraptured by her sweet voice, as he was by her shy eyes and beautiful beak. Her elegance was something he was envious and yet proud of; unlike his clumsiness, she emitted a sense of beauty and gravity. He looked up again as she began singing of someone with white fur, and soft, caring eyes. It was him! He felt himself heating up again as he watched her figure form afar; she had her back to him and was grooming her feathers; smooth and sleek they were also glossy and yet strong, and after hesitating he pushed aside the branches which separated him from her, and then began forward, cradling his hands together. He began his ascent slowly up the bird-bath, her voice getting nearer as he climbed, and as he poked his head over the rim, he saw her, standing so close, her colour producing a radiant glow. He gulped and climbed the last few inches carefully, and stood upon the edge. Quietly, to not disturb her, he sat, content to watch her bathe. And then she turned; upon seeing him she jumped and fluttered away, colouring under her feathers.

"Stuart!" He stood up and rushed forward, wondering if she had hurt herself, then he realised her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry! I really didn't mean - here, let me get your - " They both reached for her scarf, hat and goggles, bumped heads and fell. Stuart landed on top of her, fur against feathers, her breast pressing against him, and Margalo smiled.

"It's ok, Stuart." She ran her wing across his back, giving him goosebumps. He swallowed and his eyes found hers; they shone with happiness and he stood slowly, taking her wing to help her up.

"Here." He handed her her small items of clothing and looked down. "I'm sorry for startling you - "

"Don't be," she smiled, shaking her feathers dry, "And don't worry about my clothes either. We're both animals by nature; it's not like you saw anything too explicit, and we are both very close friends." He tried to smile but she moved closer, the heat being radiated from her breast impossible to ignore. "Stuart?" He took a deep breath and lifted his hand, stroking her from neck to breast, the tips of his fingers tingling.

"I - I saw this…" His voice was quiet, and he continued stroking her, his touch soft, his eyes still on the water. "And - and it made me blush, I felt very - very much like I wanted to - to - " She moaned and let her head fall back a little, and Stuart's head snapped up, his hand stopping, his eyes darting around her face.

"Margalo? Are you hurt?" She gave a shuddered breath and sighed.

"No, I - I quite liked that." She smiled and closed the gap between them, her naked feathers coming into contact with his sweater and jeans.

"In fact, I would very much like us to - to become more than friends, if you'd like that?" He fell silent and their eyes met once again, his searching hers as if for some clue, as if he thought she was joking.

"Margalo, I - "

"Who are you talking to?" They both jumped as they heard a half-mocking voice reach them; Stuart ran to the edge of the bird-bath and looked down to see Snowbell, their pet cat, leaning against the bird-bath.

"Margalo's back!" He shouted, laughing. He turned back to her, and his face changed, turning to one of joy. "You're back!" He ran towards her, laughing, and for one moment, they shared a joyous reunion, merely friends, but as he ran into her, making them both fall down, the water splashing about them, they stared at one another, bodies pressed together once again. Stuart could feel the hem of his jeans getting wet, but as he stared into Margalo's eyes, and felt her beak nudge his cheek, he couldn't care less. They stood, sharing a sweet embrace, and Margalo, with Stuart's help, re-tied her scarf and fixed on her goggles. They turned towards the Little house, jumping off of the bird-bath, landing on Snowbell ("Hey, I'm not a footstool!") and then they made their way to the Little house, hoping that one day, maybe one day, they would find some peace and quiet in order to talk about their relationship a little more… privately.

Author's note: So did you like it? Good? Bad? Are they in character? I wish I didn't have to use Snowbell to cut them off, but I wanted him somewhere in here :D And I'm roughly sticking to small chapters of 1500 words. This first one is about 1200, but I think I'm happy with it. Please click the little button below and leave me a review telling me what your thoughts are; even critisism is greatly appreciated, thanks!


	2. Too close

The darkness seemed to close in on her as her eyes fluttered open, a strangled yell coming from her mouth was instantly stopped as she raised her wing to cover the sound. A tear fell from her eye; she brushed it away and shivered, huddling closer to the edge of her nest for support. Sighing, she stretched and then lightly flew to the window-sill, landing softly, looking out of the glass with an almost wistful look upon her face.

"Margalo?" She turned and saw Stuart, her best friend, approaching her in a small dressing gown and pyjamas, his slight form shadowy in the moonlight.

"What are you doing up so late?" She bowed her head and ruffled her feathers, her head turning to look back out of the window.

"I had a nightmare," she began quietly, her eyes big, glittering like black onyx in the dark, "My mother - " Another tear slid down her face and Stuart was now so close she was afraid to look up.

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't - "

"No," Stuart took the tips of her wings and held them close to his face, and breathed deep; Margalo looked up to see his lips trembling and for one moment she thought he was going to cry.

"Don't ever think that you are not important, or what you think or dream is stupid, because it's not. You matter most to me more than anything; I never thought I would feel this way about anyone, and you - you're something special." Their eyes met and Margalo lowered her head, closing her eyes she rubbed the back of his hand affectionately.

"Thanks, Stewart." He smiled and took his hand from her wing, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his free hand he yawned, glancing back out of the window.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" They stood in silence, their hand - or wing - clasped for that brief second, and then he looked towards her again, his eyes kind.

"Why don't you - "

"Stuart?" George's voice echoed sleepily over the vast bedroom and Margalo jumped, and their grasp broke, their connection broke. Margalo turned back towards the window, her eyes closing for a brief second. Why couldn't they talk without being interrupted for one second? Not that she didn't love all of the Little family, heck, she was one of them, but her relationship with Stuart was something she wished she discuss further with him.

"I'm ok, George. Go back to sleep." The now teenage boy turned over in his bed and snuffled, his soft snores a sign that he had fallen back to sleep. Margalo looked fondly over at the youth, her gaze softening. She and Stuart had all the time in the world…

"So.. If you need me, or want to talk - " Stuart shuffled his feet, and Margalo understood him in an instant.

"Of course. You're always there for me, Stuart." She looked over to the open door; shadows flitted about in the hallway light and she suspected that Mr and Mrs Little were now also getting ready for bed. Nodding at the small mouse, she looked over to the door again.

"I'd best get back… Thank you." She ran her wing over his hand once more, smiled, and then fluttered over to the door, into the hallway, and back into her room, opposite his. He watched her leave, sighing as he made his way over to his bed.

"Maybe next time..."

"Stuart?" He jumped as he heard a small flickering of wings, and then Margalo was back by his side, approaching him with those warm eyes and glowing radiance.

"Y - yeah?" She took a few steps forward before embracing him and he shivered as he came into contact with the heat of her; blazing like a furnace she took him in her wings and pressed herself close against him. He felt the ties of his dressing-gown part, and their embrace became more heated as he felt her breast push urgently against his thin pyjamas.

"Margalo…" She nuzzled his shoulder with her beak; this one gesture sent shivers through him as he found the small of her back with his hands, trembling slightly, he began to stroke her feathers; rustling, they were burning warm and sleek to touch.

He breathed deep as he buried his nose into the crook of her neck and shivering, he felt her pull away as his whiskers twitched. They broke apart, Margalo holding her wing over he mouth.

"What's wrong?" He felt concern for her; didn't she like it? Did he do something wrong?

"Your whiskers tickled." she said, giggling slightly, she threw him one last glance, her warm gaze settling on him for a second, before she whispered

"Good night, Stuart."

"Goodnight." he replied, his hands already missing those soft feathers, that arched back, and he hastily tied the cord of his dressing-gown as he shivered; the bedroom now seemed awfully cold without her. He shook his head and made his way - once again - back to his bed. Snuggling under the covers, he regained some of the warmth which Margalo had left him with, and for a second, he recreated that scene, and smiled.


End file.
